Laugh and Cry
by Skulls' Laughing
Summary: Master Chief and the crew of the Spirit of Fire manage it back to earth. 2555, they work with ONI on a serial killer, a crazed man. But is he the true villain?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: *Cough Cough*Ok Hello Everyone. This may be my first fan fic to ever release into public, but don't fear a lack in writing and grammar skill, I write many FanFics in private. Ok this is the first thing I release so.... the disclaimer thingy thing.....

how about this:

**Disclaimer**: I don't own halo, nor bungie, nor the UNSC, nor earth, nor ONI, nor yadda yadda yadda.

Ok, you guys can set the axe down now. Please. Your slow approach is VERY intimidating. Erm...you are invading my personal space....um

….oh crap....please-PLEASE DON'T! *maniacal laughter in background*

**Laugh and Cry**

Ok first things first: The story is set some time after our dear Halo 3, our dear brethren Master Chief and the Spartans of the _Spirit of Fire_ managed to return to earth, they will team up in this one, to fight a great threat, so to say, AND DON'T YOU INFIDEL FOOLS DARE THINKING THIS IS GOING TO BE A CLICHÉ! They will be under orders from ONI, specifically our dear sister Paragosky (the good woman who never gets old). The Fic is rated M for a considerable amount of pain, psycho-terror, madness, bloodlust (BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!) and last but not least: BLOOOOOOODDDD, GIVE ME MORE BLOOOOOOD! as well several limbs and organs. Oh and I forgot to mention: the good ol' torture thingy, all due to our main villain and his most enticing fighting style (you will like it). Well, let's begin:

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GO

Damnit, almost forgot to mention: The main villain in this proud piece of trash: Helmet: EVA

Both Shoulders: Hyabusa

Chest: CQB

Primary Colour: Steel

Secondary Colour: red

Detail Colour: red Emblem: Two crossed swords on a circle

**Chapter 1: Prologue, Awakening**

We are writing the year 2555, Master Chief and the _Spirit of Fire_ have found their way back home, Master Chief and the Spartan team red (Jerome, Douglas and Alice) have found their way back to the UNSC, although most power now lies in the hands of ONI, under Parangosky.

It was night on Earth. The moon reflected his light, illuminated the darkness of the night with it's subtle silver-blue colour, resulting in beautiful sparkling light on seas and ocean. Animals, small and huge, hunt, eat, sleep.

On a very specific piece of northern Africa, the ground trembles. Not an earthquake, as it was limited to a single small spot. Earth sunk, a hole built up. Finally an arm , clad in steel coloured armour, burst through the earth, grabbing an outline and pulling its' torso up. The moonlight illuminated the armoured figure, which was pulling itself slowly out of the hole. The armour was heavily damaged, showing many holes, a pauldron almost totally ripped off, the whole suit soaked with clotted blood, blood of his own, but mostly foreign, making it rusty on many sets. The many holes exposed light and heavy wounds, good and badly healed, yet some not, revealing bare bones and torn flesh. The figure however had no time to moan over its injuries, as the inner wounds carved so much deeper. The gauntlets barely held together. The helmet had several cracks and breaches, revealing a steel-blue eye and part of the mouth was exposed, pale skin, due to lack of sunlight. As the armoured figure ultimately managed to pull itself onto the ground, it laid still on its stomach. Then it rolled over, sat up and stared directly into the moon, a single tear escaped the embrace of the eye. As it stood up, it fuddled on its armour, checking for the functionality. Everything had to work, the partner was dead, it would take long to accumulate, as it was alone now, as it would be alone for the rest of it's probably very short remaining lifespan. Just as it wished.

The years of imprisonment were soul-robbing, the last attempt of regaining sanity was tossed away. Why stay sane? _How_ stay sane? Sanity was frail, and in its case an obstruct, which was still trying to keep it alive. Stay alive? For what? Killing? Killing was the last option. The partner...its memory let another tear stream out of the eye. Without the tranquil touch of the partner, the serene presence of it, the voices came back, demanding blood and pain.

The exposed part of the mouth twitched as anger and joy, mixed with pain and sorrow, flooded the figure's mind. A delighted smile became visible, revealing sharpened teeth, just as more tears flew from the eye, replicating sounds who were a mixture of laughing and sobbing.

Killing it was.

The suit, despite its heavy damage, would still be able to offer great assistance, most of the blades still worked, although the release mechanism of one of the wrist blades was utterly damaged. Many of the supportive systems were also functional, providing the figure a map of the world and a considerable amount of additional help, such as the suits' overall functionality, ammunition amount and injuries. The figure which represented the injury-interface had many red points, resembling the countless wounds and danger of infection. It didn't matter to the figure. The wounds wouldn't have enough time to heal, as new ones were expected to come soon.

XXXXX

Yes I am well aware of the fact that the prologue is _extremely_ short. Also my writing style with this program can be improved. I need to be more descriptive.


	2. Laugh with me!

Author's Note:*cough cough*: why did i cough? Nothing to say except the

**Disclaimer**(thingy):Ok I don't own anything remotely related to halo or bungie. I once knew someone who said he owned halo. Shortly after he disappeared, so did his family......his friends.......his neighbours.....his hometown........errrr I never met such a person, no no I never did.

**Chapter 2: Laugh with me**

America, additional information lost

John-117 "Master Chief" , Jerome-092, Douglas-042 and Alice-130 sat in a car, hosted by the ONI, which was bringing them to the main building of Section I. None of them trusted ONI, they were all aquainted to many of its shadowy operators. Douglas was especially nervous (if such a word even applies for a Spartan), moreso suspicious, twitching from one side to the other, before he finally spoke up.

"I suppose none of you guys know what is going on?"

All of them wore their Mark-VI-Mjolnir armour, with pride no less, after all, after the war many rebel groups reassembled themselves, seeing the Spartans as lap-dogs of the oppressive UNSC. As a matter of fact, all remaining Spartans were in danger on such rebel-infested-worlds, but the danger only slightly subsided on Earth itself, as many rebels saw in the killing of the Spartans an active way to show the UNSC its mortality. An assassin with the head of the Master Chief could gain a fortune from such groups.

"They didn't tell anything to any of us, why should they? After all, our "dear" UNSC is mostly under control of ONI by now, and ONI handles everything the ONI-way, which means: Don't tell anyone anything, _especially_ if one could actually use the knowledge. I am so tired of this cramping bureocracy. All the power they gained, it seems to me that they are playing with it like a child which enjoys its father's flamethrower. Just look at the new laws for the "containment of AI-rampancy" which means: All Ais are to be taken into custody, never to emerge again. This reminds me, John, did they take Cortana too?" asked Alice.

John felt an uncomfortable wave of ice shiver down his spine "Yes, they did. Despite all her services to humanity, she now rots, probably somewhere in Section I. Containment of AI-rampancy my ass, she was always one of the most stable Ais!" his voice was dripping with guilt and anger, pictures of the time they spent together flashed in his mind.

"They did the same with Serina as far as I know. I have no idea why the government lets it happen, after all Ais are real copies of human brain patterns, which makes them actual sentient beings, But i suppose even the government trembles before ONI, these useless scumbags." Jerome was not happy with the situation.

"Are you sure you wanna speak that out loud? They could take everything from you, just to make a point." Douglas' voice was tempting.

"Oh, they really can't detain a Spartan, they would destroy our so-called "Mythic Image". But of course they can slit my throat in my slumber and then accuse the rebels of it. That is one of the many reasons I always keep a gun under my pillow."

After several hours of driving the Spartans finally arrived at the Mainbuilding of ONI's Section I, a skyscraper by the outern looks, and were led into a briefing room. There an ONI operative and Parangosky herself were waiting for the Spartans. More out of common sense than out of respect, the Spartans saluted before her, John visibly more half hearted than the others.

Parangosky, at the sight of these gesture, just replied "At ease."

The operative, a - in comparison to "normal" people – tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes with scandinavian facial features, spoke up: "Greetings Spartans and especially you Master Chief. I am Colonel Arvid. ONI has summoned you here because one of our detainees has escaped, a most delicate situation."

Alice's voice revealed her unbelief "Someone escaped from an ONI-detainment-cell? As much as I know, those cells are located under the earth, one massive steel door, the walls made of thick cement and everything is totally sterile, in addition to all the fancy security mechanisms. How could someone escape from there?"

The Colonel gave an sarcastical grin "Well, it is virtually impossible by any means. In this case, the detainee just took the most conventional one: he _dug _his way through the cement, another sign for the extreme mental destability and danger of this individual. Appearently the cell was abandoned a long time ago, we just found out that the specific detainee escaped, because of a murder, commited by the specific individual."

Now John took part in the briefing "Define "murder"."

"Well, the former detainee stormed a high security ONI armory, filled with with weapons, conventional and experimental. He most probably killed the whole personal stationed there. What we know for sure is that he tortured the stationed scientists to death. Here is the security footage."

He motioned to the large screen on the other end of the room.

The Colonel turned the screen on and the light off. It showed the observating view of a security camera, in this specfic case the camera overlooked a rectangular room, filled with various lab material, two guards standing before the front door and one female, clad in a white scientist coat. All of them were worried, staring directly at the door, the guards took cover behind a table, their weapons pointed at the door. One of the guards spoke on the radio, while the scientist became seemingly more scared. "I don't care whether he can swim through shadows! Just point a gun at him and shoot! What? Now he is invincible? Keep shooting! Hello? Damnit!" Even more worried the guards pointed their guns at the door, obviousely shaking, beads of sweat running down their hands.

"Can anyone hear me? We are in lab-C, is anyone else alive? Goddamnit guys, not everyone of us -"

Suddenly the door exploded,smoke and metal shreds flying through the room, some hit the camera, striking cracks and jammed the built-in-listening-device. While the guards keept shooting aimlessly at the smoke, an armored figure, standing 2,1 m in height, armed with a sniper rifle in one hand and what seemed like a plasma sword in the other, leaped through the smoke at one guard, stabbing him right through the chest, holding the impaled man high in the air. Using the man as a living shield, the figure approached the other guard, before throwing the impaled one off the sword, leaping at the other guard and swinging the sniper rifle without mercy on the skull, laughing maniacally, reducing it to a composture of liquified brainmass and broken bones, the life fluid gathering on the ground.

Only now the figure became fully visible, revealing what once seemed to be a highly evolved combat armor, like the Spartans wear them. But now it was heavily damaged, revealing countless scars and open wounds. The whole figure was soaked in blood, giving it ironically an even more intimidating look.

While the figure still knelt over the guard, the scientist tried to sneak out of the room, only to be stopped by the thrown plasma sword which sliced a minor wound into her leg. She seemed to scream and sob, then ran frantically to the door, to be stopped by the figure itself this time, standing right in the destroyed door. The scientist ran directly toward the other end of the room, trying to stay as far away as possible, fear having already overriden all rational sense.

It was clear that the figure was _enjoying_ to hunt the scientist through the room, dealing more and more little wounds to her, until the loss of blood forced her to crouch. The figure planted its heavy foot on the scientist, then pinned her against the wall with one hand, while ripping off the white coat with the other. It drew a knive out of its suit, began dancing with the blade on her bare shoulder, before stabbing it slightly inside, tearing off the skin righ to the bone, emphasizing a slow pace. Like a dearing lover, it sheathed the knive back into his suit and slowly began breaking the bone, then took it out piece by piece, blood running in streams out of the horrible wound, the scientist seemingly screaming at the top of her lungs. The figure, obviousely enjoying itself, moved its mouth to the collarbone, drove its teeth deep into the skin, tearing out a chunk of flesh, chewing on it. Then it moved its fingers back to the wounded arm, caressing it gently, before slowly pulling it, tearing it off from the stump sinew by sinew, while still emphasizing a particular slowness. With the arm still in its hand, the figure went to the opposite wall, began _writing_ with the blood spewing out of the dismembered limb:

_This is Pair Soldier 1 1 ,_

_Former Laugh of the Pair "Laugh and Cry" ,_

_"Laughing Death" ,_

_I am the momentum to all your sins._

With that the figure went back to the scientist and threw her playfully against the adjacent wall, directly against the camera, which fell down with the scientist, the picture began to flicker due to the massive damage, but the listening device was unjammed.

The figure, or "Laughing Death" as it called itself, stepped to the agonized scientist, held her high with both hands around the neck, speaking with a deep voice, a voice that was rarely in use for a long amount of time

**"Laugh with me! Laugh! End my pain and yours! Laugh! Or do you want me to go on dissecting your own body with you still being alive?"**

The scientist began to sob through the cries of agony, obviousely not understanding what the man wanted from her

**"I want you to laugh, share with me the excitement of dying and I will end all your pain! Laugh!"**

The scientist managed to reduce her screams to sobbing

**"Laugh!"**

She managed to gag, trying desperately to laugh through her streams of tears, sobbing, sweating and pain

**"Laugh!"**

The woman now brought some kind of laughter into her constant sobbing.

The picture flickered one last time, then turned off.


	3. My scars prove my worth!

Author's Note: *Cough Cough* why did I cough again? There is only the

**Disclaimer**: I don't own halo, I never did and I will never do. Oh it looks like we have a guest here today, your name, sir?

Inquisitor Toth: I am inquisitor Toth from the warhammer universe. We have detected signs of heresy in form of Master Chief worshipping.....do you know anything about that?

Errr of course i haven't. I am a loyal member of the Imperium! The Emperor's light fills my eyes!

Inquisitor Toth: Good....we will keep an eye on you........of course you know what happens to heretics.....

*****gag* We- errr I mean they- are drafted into the imperial army.....in the battle to the front line......and we-I mean they- have to play the to-be-shot-for-motivation-excercises-doll for the commissars........and if we- I mean they- survive all that.... we----they get either tortured for the next millennias, or are being processed into a servitor........

Inquisitor Toth:You seem to be in great distress my friend. The heretics.....*rises the nose into the air*........ must be near.......I can taste their fear.......you know?

*****scarednod*****

**Chapter 3: My scars prove my worth!**

Alice stood up to her full height of 2,06 m, facing the Colonel

"This "Laughing Death" is obviousely a Spartan like us, though his movement and fighting style irritates me. But that is impossible! Every Spartan knows his brothers and sisters and he is completely foreign to me!" Alice turned to Parangosky "You know something! Who is he?"

Parangosky gave Alice just a cold smile and replied "This doesn't concern you, neither of you. What _should_ concern you, is that a highly dangerous madman is out of control, roaming free and probably slaughtering a remote village right now. We called you remaining Spartans, because you have the best chance of taking the former detainee down. The order is shoot on sight. Never make the mistake of forgetting that."

With these words (or threats) Parangosky left the room, leaving the Spartans with Arvid to further discuss the specifics of the former detainee.

John began "Since you will obviousely not enlighten us on the man's origin, I suppose the most important questions are: What are his overall combat capabilities? What weapons does he have? I also have some questions regarding his suit."

Arvid coughed "Well, he is obviousely stronger and faster than the average man, as that is common for the Spartans. He seems to be very cunning, despite his brutish looks and his desire to...instill pain and despair into his enemies. He also has a high pain tolerance, as you saw that his current injuries didn't hinder his combat capabilities at all, expect him to stand up even if his legs are broken, also a witness for his determination. As you are no doubt aware, fear doesn't apply to him, another attribute he shares with you Spartans. He seems to be in a state of constant anger, he could act reckless on occasions.

About his weapons, well he stormed the armory _unarmed_, he aquired the weapons you saw in the footage _while_ he slaughtered his way through the building. By now his weapons could range from the normal sidearm to the feared Spartan Laser, he also seems to have aquired at least one plasma sword and one sniper rifle, showing that he is a deadly enemy up close and on range. He seems to have a preference for melee weapons and since there was more than one Plasma Sword in the armory I would expect him to have some hidden in his suit for back-up. Now to-"

Arvid was interrupted by Douglas

"Why did you even keep Plasma Swords in the armory?"

"Well, our scientists are still trying to figure out how the old covenant managed to keep the flow of energy in its oval shape. The knowledge we could gain from such weapons can be truly magnificent. Frankly the Sangheili (also known as "elites") are unable to help us in this kind of research, as their own research department became dependent on the prophets in their years of old-covenant-membership. Currently, they are rebuilding thier research department, however, it will take time until they can even start thinking about research.

Now, back to the subject. The suit is a highly modified version of the old Mark IV. That may make the suits' overall recharge rate smaller, but the many modifications eases that problem. Like your Mark VI the suit improves the already formidable attributes, giving him like you the ability to lift even a tank. Also the suit was improved by parts of EVA, Hyabusa and CQB. By what we found out from the security-footage, his suit houses a wide variety of blades, located on both kneecaps, chest, arms, two long wrist blades of whom only one seems functional at the moment, shoulders and on both sides of the boots. He is virtually able to turn his whole body into a weapon by simply jumping on an enemy. About the visibly high amount of damage the suit received...well, let's just say that you can't depend on that to make your job easier. Some of the blades could be stuck, but yet most of them endure. The shields are also at nigh full capacity.

We can't give you much advice on how to fight him, as protocol never covered a rogue Spartan. The only advice I can give you is to stay away from him as far as possible, taking him out from afar. You also probably saw his mental destability. In such cases it is advised to look for the source of the destability. With that you should be able to draw him into hesitation, maybe even paralyze him, pry his mental wounds open, although that's all only theory. Expect him to expect the unexpected, as he will surely expect the same from us.

Our job is to track him down and grant assistance in form of marines. Parangosky herself has informed me that you will be granted assistance in any form you need. She will even be able to provide some scorpion tanks if need arises. The orders are easy: Shoot on sight. A rogue Spartan poses too much a threat to the mental image of the population to be left alive.

Despite of being a Spartan, you cannot expect any mercy from him, not even to his own brothers and sisters. The orders are clear. Any questions?"

Alice nodded "How are you supposed to track him down? Will you just follow the trail of blood he leaves behind?"

"Well, for some reason he activated his distress beacon, whether it was on purpose or not we cannot say. And yes we are well aware of the high possibility that this is a trap, which is why we summoned you. After all, it takes a Spartan to take a Spartan down. That we called all four of you is just our way of showing our...determination to take this former detainee down.

We will have various snipers positioned wherever possible and as mentioned before you are granted any assistance you wish, as long as the former detainee is neutralized."

Jerome spoke up "It is obvious that he is trying to draw us in. And it is also obvious that he knows that we know that this is a trap. Why would he do that?"

"We guess that he is trying to gather information about who exactly we are able to send against him. However, this is the chance to eliminate him without causing more distress within the population. We _must_ act on the chance of eliminating him, no matter how low the chance is. He is currently trying to cross over to America, and before you ask, we have no idea what he wants there. His current location seems to be in a canyon. Grab your gear, then return here.

_Meanwhile_

_He saw his thousands of deaths from twelve views, broken eyes watching him, he scratching on the grey wall, digging, his fingers bloody, nails nonexistent. He wanted so much to die. The eyes replicated words, reminding him why he still had to live, even though living was a sin. The scratching became for frantically, more life-fluid streamed from the fingers, smearing the wall, the eyes all around him, laughing, crying, murning, hating. He screamed for mercy, for death. He stopped himself. Then the eyes reminded him how they had kept him alive, so he could die in peace. All for them. Everything and more for them. All and everything was worth for them. Even the constant pain of living._

Laugh woke up, again facing the cold moon, now the shape of a scythe. Even with all the voices clouding his mind, he still saw things clear: What kept him alive was, in the end, only one person.

Parangosky.


	4. Oh sweet alluring insanity

Author's Note:*cough cough* ok, since inqusitor Toth is becoming a real pain in the ass, I have to hide all my Master Chief fan articles...no matter, time for the

**Disclaimer**:If I would own halo, I would be marked as a heretic by inquisitor Toth...I don't want that, no?

**Chapter 4: Oh sweet alluring insanity**

ONI provided the Spartans with all the weapons they wanted, even Covenant weapons. John made sure that all of his teammates had at least one Plasma Sword and one conventional pistol. Other than that, the Chief (John) took a Spartan Laser with him, a very heavy weapon, able to take out both vehicles and infantry with the precision of a pistol and the firepower of a rocket launcher.

Alice used two Plasma swords but unfortunately was not allowed to bring the Chain Gun with her, which she had already used in the Harvest Campaign. Instead she took a shotgun.

Jerome took a sniper rifle and a Spartan Laser, while Douglas had to discard his rocket launcher, using that in a canyon would only slow him down. He took a brute-mauler as side arm and a shotgun.

While they prepared, they held a conversation, with the rogue "Laughing Death" as subject.

"I would have never thought that we would have to fight against a brother...but then again, I don't even know him. And we have all seen what he did to this scientists." Douglas shook his head in disbelief. He had seen things like that in the war, had seen how Covenant brutes tore men apart, drenched in blood and organs, reveling in the carnage. He himself had seen the dismemberment of limbs from enemies as a tactical fighting he had never seen a Spartan - a _brother_ - living out his sadistic desires on an unarmed civilian. He had simply never thought it possible before, as all of them hadn't.

The Spartan-II Program was sparked to life in the year 2517, 75 children at the age of 5-6 were secretly abducted from their parents (thus drafted into the army), the children replaced by clones for the former parents, and then tutored under various teachers, the most famous (or infamous) of them was Mendez. The head scientist of the project was Dr. Catherine Halsey (she was also the one of whom the brainwave patterns were taken to create the AI Cortana).

The young Spartans always visualized Halsey as "mother", Halsey gave her "children" occasionally opportunities to engage in various activities, for example, she allowed John-117 (later known as "Master Chief") to play piano.

The children underwent several augmentation processes, boosting their muscle-and-bone-growth, density, thus giving all surviving Spartans their gargantuan growth of usually 2 metres. The bones were also given a Carbide-Ceramic-Ossification, making the bones nigh indestructible. Their brains received a Superconducting Fibrification of Neural Dendrites, increasing the Spartans reflexes by 300%. Aside from that, the augmentation process (which was conducted on the Spartans at the age of 14) killed all sexual drives, as a Spartan was bred for war and nothing else.

The overall results of the augmentations were:

Capable of running speeds exceeding 55 KPH (34,155 MPH)). Kelly-087 (Member of Blue Team (John-117's actual team), famous for being the fastest Spartan in existence) was capable of running even faster, her top speed in the MARK V armor being 62 KPH)

Capable of lifting 3 times their body weight

Virtual night vision

Reaction times of estimated 20 miliseconds. Significantly faster in combat situations or with AI assistance

Capable of unprecedent teamwork, that resembled "telepathy"

No physiological or mental instabilities

Unusual regenerative abilities

Mendez himself stated that the Spartans would only develop their abilities further with the time, adjusting to their augmentations.

Unfortunately, the program also stated a high casualty rate. From the 75 children, only 45 survived, from those 45, 12 were severely crippled, rendering them unable to fight. Those 12 "Wash Outs" , as Mendez called them, were barely able to breath, their skeletal structure twisted beyond recognition, giving them an almost inhumane appearance. Others were blind, or had their limbs paralyzed.

The Spartans were always a tight-knit group, every Spartan knew his brothers by name, appearance and even voice. That they didn't know this particular rogue Spartan was...a disturbing experience for them. They didn't want to fight a brother, yet was this man even a brother, despite his appearance and prowess?

Letting lose a resignated sigh, the Spartans finished grabbing their gear and made their way to the chopper, which would bring them to their target. The order was like before "shoot on sight".

_Again he was surrounded by the eleven pairs of eyes, all staring down at his prone figure, laying in a pool of blood. Laugh was alone. A horrifying experience, which made Madness a mercy. Laugh knelt before the intimidating eyes. Insanity, born from this pitiful excuse of an existence. Loneliness, longing. Hunger. He was never made to be alone. Was he a monster? Did it matter? Was a monster evil? Was _he_ evil? If he was a monster, and as the result evil, was he then innocently evil, since he had just become what others wanted him to become?What were those others then? Loneliness. He was scared to be alone. He never thought he would have to endure the horrible feeling of loneliness, part of him was gone and so was his mind. Yet he was too old to just give up, too old to be disloyal. He had dug his way through time, stone and earth. He had suffered too much to give up._

_From the eyes, a solid hand erupted, scars running across the once delicate skin. Laugh recognized the hand immediately, tried to grab it. His bloodstained hands touch the skin with a desperate longing, the hand emitting sweet indulgence. He will never forget, never forgive, never die. Slowly the hand retreats, he tried to clasp his hands around it, tried to pull Cry to him. All in vain._

_He was alone._


End file.
